The must have item
by love-fool
Summary: Determination and ambition ruined Macbeth. Now, it shall ruin someone else.


[Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire or Cold's "No one" from the A Walk to Remember soundtrack.]

[Warnings: There is some violence in this story, so if that bothers you, please do not read. Also, this is really kind of…psychotic? I have no clue what got into me when I decided to write it. Again, proceed with caution. I know this is messed up. *sighs*]

_Well I cannot ever really believe_

_No one was out to get me_

_I feel like I'm being erased_

_No one got left here_

The scuffling of her clogs against the pavement was something she wanted to be muted. Hopefully, the pitter patter of her footsteps would be something inaudible to the rest of the world. In fact, she was incredibly confident that this was true. The world, well her part of it, was sprinkled with sand and had drifted into a peaceful slumber. Of course, the screams of her latest victim could have completely shattered the glass and stirred all of those people from their nightly siesta. That wouldn't happen though, since she was so precise about everything. 

Suddenly, the bushes rustled in the silent night, causing her to turn around and gaze about to see the source of the noise. The delusional girl thought that it was a just a raccoon or some other critter of the night roaming about. How wrong she was and how unfortunate it was for her. It would be the wet cement that she slipped on that would make her plan sink into the pits of failure.

"What's she doing," the figure in the shrubbery asked to itself quietly. "It's almost three in the morning."

As the clog wearing girl continued to saunter into the dark of the night, she admired her lovely plan and how utterly brilliant it was while rubbing a cut on her hand. Now that her task was complete to the utmost perfection, she could sleep soundly and dream of the fantastic things that were about to come. Oh, those sugar plum fairies were complete ruffians compared to what was about to be forecasted in her crystal ball. It amazed her, how brilliant she could be. Why hadn't she thought of this earlier? She could have been better-off and worn the fine silks of royalty. This was the perfect plan…the perfect murder. The best thing about it was that no one would ever thing of suspecting her, being the angel that she was. It was more like a fallen angel though, a fallen angel who had perished into the fiery pits of hell and came crawling out all burnt up and with a vengeance. How she relished the fact that this was so intelligent. 
    
    _Well I'm all alone_
    
    _No one was out to get me_
    
    _Well I'm all alone_
    
    _No one got left here_

The night broke apart as the bright colors of daylight tore across the sky. The bright colors of daylight crept through the white blinds of a rather pink bedroom. It was one filled with girlish delights, magazine cut outs, and fluffy stuffed animals. The only thing that put a damper on the whole innocent and rose-colored glasses appeal of the room was the bloody and stabbed body sprawled out in the bed. Crimson fluid tainted the angelic blonde hair that flowed from her perfectly sound face. Deep gashes adorned the girl's peachy colored skin of her wrists and neck as dried blood crusted over them. The pure angel of the morning had been clipped of her wings before she had gotten her halo. She had fallen from the sky during her joyous flights and fell into the storm cloud.

"Honey, it's time to," a mother attempting to get her daughter up and ready for school was interrupted by the ghastly realization that her daughter would never get up again. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. Lizzie!" Jo McGuire stroked down the side of her daughter's cold face with her fingers while tears flowed and fogged up her glasses. What kind of person would do such a thing? Our clog wearing friend would be just the person to fit this hellacious role.

Soon the sounds of emergency vehicles, sobbing, and concerned voices filled the air. The only thing that was completely silent was the menacing smile creeping across our clog wearing friend's guilty face. Her brilliance never ceased to amaze her to the utmost extent.

"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie," She chimed mockingly to herself as she walked to school. "You were only a mere obstacle in my way. Now, nothing will stop me from getting David."

_But I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

_Well I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

School had been cancelled for the day when everyone got word of Lizzie's murder. Since then our clog wearing friend had washed her hands of the blood and went along her merry way. To secure her innocence, she went about and consoled all of the weeping people who were falling all over themselves about Lizzie's death. She even sobbed with them and told them everything would be okay and that the murder would be caught and justice would be served. It was such a simple concept to follow, "look innocent and you will be thought of as innocent". Oh how dreadfully wrong she was.   
  
During the pale winter day, Miranda Sanchez and David Gordon attempted to convince themselves that Lizzie wasn't dead. This was a horrid dream that they would wake up from. Of course, it never happened. They held each other in a warm embrace as tears spilled from their sad eyes and fear consumed their bodies. Was this killer after anyone else besides them? Yes, she was. Would they be a target of the murderer's next attempt? Possibly, it still wasn't definite yet. 

"Gordo," Miranda sniffed as the smell of burning wood from the fireplace filled her nose. "Who could have done this? Who would have wanted to do this? Why _Lizzie_?! She was never mean to anyone and was always so friendly. God, why?!"

Gordo sighed as tears streamed from his face, "I can't believe this. I…love Lizzie. Everyone loved Lizzie."

"I hate Lizzie," the clog wearing girl muttered to herself as her mother drove them to pick up the girl's father from work. Hopefully her moronic parents wouldn't make her actually _go_ to that blonde idiot's funeral, whenever it was. That would be absolutely appalling to her and there was simply no point in going. Oh wait, _he_ would be there. So, maybe there was a point in going. She could then slowly seduce David into loving her and running off to a placid island with their name written allover it. 

_I can't even breathe when I see_

_The pictures sent without you_

_Well I feel like I'm being erased_

_No one got left here_

Parker McKenzie sighed while looking through old photographs as the snow and wind blew outside. Lizzie's death had depressed her quite a bit and made her regret the fact that she hadn't apologized to her about the whole lunch box incident in fifth grade. That was in the past though; the future was something to be concerned about. 

Parker's mother sat beside her daughter on the couch and turned on the television. Suddenly, the news flashed on and the reporters were all focused on Lizzie McGuire's murder. Yes, it was tragic and it had been a week, but there was also other news out there. What if a tornado of immense strength was about to destroy their town? Would they cover that or Lizzie's murder?  
  
 "It's kind of unsettling," Parker's mother said in discomfort. "If someone like Lizzie McGuire gets killed, then I'm afraid for you, Parker. I never thought there would be a murder in our quiet little suburbia."

"Don't worry," Parker cooed reassuringly to her mother. "I'll be alright."

"And the only clues as of right now in the case of Lizzie McGuire's murder are a strand of long dark hair and clog footprints found at the crime scene. At this point, there are still no suspects," the news reporter informed the citizens of the tiny town during their dinners while praying that their children would be safe and sound from this vile murderer.

_Well I'm all alone_

_No one was out to get me_

_Well I'm all alone_

_No one got left here_

"No suspects," the clog wearing girl chimed from her bedroom while watching television. "Just the way I like it! Oh David, I can't wait until we're together. We were perfect for each other; you were just too young and stupid to see it."

"Honey," her mother bellowed from her room. "Can you go next door and ask if they have some butter I can borrow? I'm making cookies tonight."

"Yes, mother," she sweetly said to her Carol Brady-like mother. The dark haired girl felt as though she had been forcefully hurled into the series whenever her mother uttered anything. The way she acted, the way her voice was perky, all of those things made the dark haired girl want to vomit profusely. How could someone be that incredibly plastic?

The dark haired girl clomped down the sidewalk in her clogs towards her next door neighbors, who according to her were a bunch of bizarre alien pod people in human form. Her incredibly judgmental outlook on life helped perceive her actually somewhat normal neighbors as this. But you really can't blame her; you can blame the people she leeches on to.

As her finger pressed against the doorbell, the sound of it chiming filled the house. A pitter patter of footsteps headed towards the door before it swung open.

"Hey Parker," the dark haired girl greeted her nervously. "Is your mom home? We need butter."

"Your mom is making her world famous cookies again," Parker questioned as she looked over the dark haired girl. Why had she been out late last night? Well, Parker had been out after her little sister had thrown her calculator out the window during the middle of the night. So, she had to go through the bushes finding it. But here was her next door neighbor; who had dark hair, was wearing clogs, had a scratch on her hand, and was out late last night. It just screamed "suspicious" to Parker in a loud shrill voice that could shatter plates.

"Yes, she is," the dark haired girl rolled her eyes. "So, do you have any butter?"

Parker looked at her up and down before stating, "No, we don't. My mom is out getting some right now. But I have a bone to pick with you. I was out last night lurking around in the bushes after Maddy through my calculator in the bushes when I saw you outside, hurrying home. So, why were you out late last night, Brooke?"

Brooke Baker let out a gulp before looking down at the ground. Oh god, that weirdo McKenzie girl better not be after her. That could be fixed though. Her suspicions could be _dead_ by the time Brooke was done with her. After all, she was just in the way as well.

Wait a minute, what if _Parker_ tried to steal Brooke's beloved David?   
  
She wouldn't even dare though. Right? Especially after rejecting the boy and casting him aside like a horrible actor who had auditioned in Parker's place of potential beaus. But her beloved David was weak at the moment, hence why Brooke was going to go after him. It was all part of the plan that resembled Brooke's perfectly manicured fingers. Parker had suspicions though, so maybe her suspicions should be put to rest once and for all. You couldn't have a curious girl like Parker sauntering around and talking jive with her granola bar eating college friends about Brooke being a suspect. Besides, who would suspect a sixteen year old popular lemming girl of murder? 

"That's okay," Brooke chirped nervously before thinking of a reason about why she was out walking at three in the morning. "Let's see, I was out last night because I felt like walking because I couldn't go to sleep, mmkay?"

"I was just asking," Parker sneered before slamming the door in an irate and murderous Brooke Baker's face. She couldn't believe the suspicious vibes that Brooke was giving off at the moment. 

_But I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

_Well I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

Parker couldn't just put away her suspicions in a small bottle. It was too much to simply discount and forget about. But there was always the chance that she was wrong. Parker had been wrong an unaccountable amount of times in her life. There was the time where she thought play-doh was part of the food pyramid, the time that she thought no one would ever sit on her lunchbox, and of course the time where she had rejected Gordo. That was certainly a mistake, but she had moved on with her life and had a boyfriend herself. Plus, Gordo seemed to forgive her because they did seem to be pretty good friends.

"Maybe I should call Gordo," Parker let out a sigh as she gazed at her purple tinted ceiling that hung above her and dialed his number on her lavender colored phone.

"Maybe you should call your mommy," a voice taunted like a playground bully. Parker whisked around, dropped the phone, and saw Brooke Baker sitting on her window sill. The sun gleamed against Brooke's dark skin as she sat there, like a movie star basking under a tanning lamp. "Gee, I like what you've done with the place. I feel like I'm in a hippie's room, wait, I already am."

"What's your point," Parker questioned insolently. 

"You just aren't any hippie, are you," Brooke chimed. "You're a bit too curious for your own good. Let me introduce you to my good friend." Brooke peeled back her denim winter jacket to reveal a shiny steak knife that reflected the brilliant noon time sunshine. "This is a murder weapon, guess who I am?!"

Parker looked at her and it seemed as though Parker's chocolate colored and fearful eyes were going to pop right out of their sockets. Her suspicions had been confirmed right in front of her eyes. She should have followed her instincts and called the police five days ago when her suspicions came about. Of course, she had to be all reasonable and wait for any hardcore evidence. Well here it was, right in front of her face.

"You killed Lizzie," Parker gasped. "Why?! She never did anything to you!"

Brooke played with the handle of her knife and caught her stunning reflection in it, "She was in the way. I mean, there was David always following her around like some love sick puppy. It depressed me, that in the end he chose that blonde ditz over me."

Parker was still quite shell-shocked from Brooke's confession. Everything she had suspected had been confirmed. With no second thoughts, she got up off of her bed and lunged towards Brooke. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea at the moment, due to the fact that Brooke was armed with a knife and looked incredibly ready to murder the brunette who sounded like a banshee.

Brooke had carefully placed her savior object back in her jacket as Parker had lunged towards her. The murderous girl grabbed Parker's wrists and attempted to grab her knife so she could silence the curious cat. Fortunately, Parker sliced her nails against Brooke's hand, causing her to retract her hands off of Parker and howl in immense pain.

"You fucking bitch," Brooke growled as Parker scampered off quickly out of her room. After the pain subsided slightly, Brooke tore after her with the knife in hand. It was like a game of cat and mouse throughout the McKenzie household, except the cat had extremely long nails and a massive streak of determination.

The two girls darted down the stairs as the clock chimed seven o'clock; Brooke was slowly catching up to Parker, which was unbeknownst to Parker. The brunette thought she had a pretty good lead on her as she gripped the door handle and was just about to escape from the mouse trap she was in. That was until she felt the cold steel and metallic of the knife dig into her back. A feeling of incredible pain diffused throughout her small body. Her back arched in pain, causing the blade to dig deeper into her body and more red fluid to disperse out of her wound and her body to tremble. A minute later, her body fell to the ground as the life slowly slithered out of Parker's body.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Brooke smiled at Parker's stabbed and limp body before bolting toward the McKenzie's back door.

_I'm so sick of this terrible instinct_

_It's so hard now_

_Just to find you_

_I'm so sick of this terrible instinct_

_It's so hard now_

_Just to find you_

_I'm so sick of this terrible instinct_

_I can only hold you_

_I'm so sick of this terrible instinct_

_I can only find you_

"The murderer struck again," Gordo told tearfully to Miranda as they sat on her cerulean living room couch. 

"Oh my god, who was it," Miranda asked with concern while tears piled in her deep brown eyes. 

"Parker McKenzie," the curly haired boy shook his head before balancing it in his hands. Lizzie and Parker's murders had been only seven days apart. It was tearing him apart inside; he couldn't bear the fact that there was a murder gallivanting around town murdering the people close to him. But there was more to it than that, so much more.

"Wait, it hasn't been on the news yet," Miranda asked flabbergasted. "Did the police call you and tell you? What's going on? Oh my god, who would want to kill Parker? Gordo, what's going on? Why is everyone getting killed?"

"Miranda," He choked. "I know who killed both of them. I got a confession from the murderer."

"How," Miranda urged him on.

"P-P-Parker called me at six thirty and I don't know why," Gordo stammered. "But then I didn't hear Parker when I picked up the phone. I heard _Brooke Baker talking about why she killed Lizzie. Then I heard sirens go past my house at seven thirty and they went into the direction of Parker's house. __Brooke Baker, the girl I used to go out with in seventh grade, __killed my girlfriend, Miranda! She killed our best friend! She killed Parker too! I could just kill her right now too!"  
  
Miranda gaped at Gordo for a moment before breaking down into hysterical tears. She felt as though she wanted to either murder Brooke or just hide forever in a small pit. It was too much for her fragile well being at the moment. Everything just seemed to be spiraling out of control for Miranda. There was nothing she could control right now. Miranda Sanchez needed control or she would go absolutely mad._

"I have to go, my mom doesn't know I'm out," Gordo said dismally before holding Miranda in an embrace for a moment. "We need an actual confession from Brooke before we can press charges. I can't believe this."

"Goodbye Gordo," Miranda gulped as her curly-haired friend sauntered slowly out of the door. As the sound of the door resonated through the living room, Miranda scurried towards her bathroom and cracked open the medicine cabinet and finding a bottle full of pills. What they were for, Miranda didn't know or really care at the moment. All she knew was that this was too much for her to bear and she couldn't take it anymore while she shoveled a handful of pills into her mouth and swallowed them with the help of freezing bathroom sink water. The end of Miranda's movie was approaching and Miranda loved the fact that it was concluding. Hopefully, there would be no bothersome credits at the end.

As the night faded into day like it was supposed to, Gordo had yet another person that he had lost. He had lost three people that had affected his life within the last twelve days. His whole world was crumbling as he walked on it and it was all because of Brooke, it seemed. If Brooke hadn't have killed Lizzie and Parker, then Miranda wouldn't have committed suicide. He'd have his arm around Lizzie while Miranda kept on reminding them how adorable they looked and how perfect they were for each other. It amazed him how this one girl proceeded to ruin everything for him. So that whole cliché about how one person could change your life was true after all. He had to stay strong though and Brooke had to serve her justice. Like a Christmas present; it was for Lizzie, Miranda, and Parker. Now, he had no one to turn to. The least he could was to lock away their killer.

He gingerly picked up the phone and dialed Brooke's number, "Brooke? Is that you? Can you meet me behind the Digital Bean at four o'clock? There's something I need to talk to you about, but I want to do it where no one will disturb us. I'll see you there, bye."

It amazed him how quickly he had thought of that, but the mind does peculiar things under stress.  
  


_Well I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

_Well I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

_Well I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

_Well I'm fine_

_No one got left here_

Soon, the time for his plan to unroll like a Roman scripture that had fallen gracefully on the floor as the paper poured off the rod. All of this deceit and deception made him feel as though he was he was wedged into one of those idiotic lifetime movies that his mother would watch when it was that time of the month, as well as eat a huge abundance of ice cream. That was beside the point though. David Gordon was on a mission at the moment, and nothing could possibly tear him away from it.

"What did you want to talk about," Brooke asked him as she approached the alley.

"This is hard for me," He started. "Especially with Lizzie, Parker, and Miranda dying…but I have something to tell you."

"Oh David," Brooke cried as she flung her arms around him and about to make a horrible mistake in what she was about to say. "I knew you'd come around! You didn't need Lizzie or Parker in your life. Miranda was just in the way of our love! I'm so glad that I finally got you to realize that! But don't worry; you'll get over it with time. After all, you do have me."

"What are you talking about," Gordo asked suspiciously as he looked at her with gloomy and tear stained eyes.

Brooke realized the severity of her mistake and tried desperately to cover it up, "David, how can I put this…?"

Gordo still couldn't believe she could be on the verge of confessing to the crime that had and would cause him immense amounts of emotional pain. At this point, he felt like murdering Brooke as his blood boiled throughout his body. How could someone that appeared to be so nice and caring be so evil and determined? The whole being determined part was something he would normally respect a person for, but Brooke had crossed the line.

"Brooke," He choked. "Did you kill my girlfriend and one of my friends?"

Brooke stared at David and admired his intelligence and wit, even though her admiration for that quality would be part of her downfall. It still bewildered him that someone could be so positively demonic. Normally, he thought that in this situation, someone like Brooke would have Claire Miller start rumors about Lizzie thinking about breaking up with him.

"Yes," She stated barely above a whisper before her voice boomed throughout the alley. "YES! Of course I did! Has that intelligent brain of yours realized that we belong together? I realized that on our first date! I love you, David Gordon! I love you so much that I killed your girlfriend and your rat of a friend so I could get to you! If that doesn't tell you that I love you, what else would?!"

"Freeze," a gruff male voice yelled as he headed towards Brooke and handcuffed her. "You're under arrest for the murders of Elizabeth McGuire and Parker McKenzie. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can be used against you in a court of law."

"David," She screeched. "This was a set-up, wasn't it?!"

"You're intelligent brain just realized that," Gordo chimed sarcastically as the officer hauled Brooke away.

Even though Brooke was going to be served her justice, there still was the fact remaining that he had no one to help him grieve. No one. But perhaps time would heal these wounds.

[A/N: I know, this was incredibly psychotic and what not, but it was fun to write. So…yeah. It sucks, but I enjoyed writing it. Fare thee well!] 


End file.
